


Tremors

by CorpusInvictus



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 20:14:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorpusInvictus/pseuds/CorpusInvictus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Star Trek XI Kink Meme prompt: "I'd like to read a nice, calm, affectionate shower with Spock/Kirk. Protective!Spock is always amazing! Sex not required, but not unwanted!"</p><p>I kept trying and trying to get a really protective!Spock going but Kirk kept getting equally protective. Also, this got disgustingly shmoopy and sappy. I'm hoping it's not too terribly out of character for either of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tremors

James Tiberius Kirk can't pin down the exact moment he changed from the most notorious intergalactic playboy in Starfleet into such a damned domestic soft-hearted bastard. He tries to, on occasion. He wonders if it was the mind-meld with the older version of Spock that first alerted him to the depth of a Vulcan's heart. He wonders if it was watching Spock and Uhura kissing on the telepad, looking uncomfortably away because of a twinge in his chest he couldn't quite explain.

Mostly, though, he doesn't wonder about it at all. He's not one to dwell on the past. Much more pleasant to focus on the present, especially since the present currently features a gorgeous naked Vulcan in his shower.

And not only does he have the singular pleasure of watching that gorgeous naked Vulcan, he's also got the second best thing, which is being pressed up against the gorgeous naked Vulcan. Spock's skin is almost impossibly hotter than the water, and Kirk tries his best to melt into him.

Long fingers massage shampoo into his scalp in deep circular motions. "I would comment on the foolishness you recently displayed, but it seems illogical to discuss a matter you have continued to ignore for at least the past two years."

It doesn't matter that he's being scolded; Kirk can feel that lovely, even voice vibrating through Spock's chest, and he presses against it a little more firmly. "Since when is covering your ass considered foolish?"

"When you determine my safety to be prioritized above your own."

He shrugs, keeping the motion brief so as not to shake off his partner. "You've done the same for me plenty of times."

"I have assisted you only when I believed your life to be in danger." Those fingers are working down the nape of his neck now, equal parts scrubbing his hair and working the knots of tension out of his muscles. "I do not interfere when you have the situation under control."

"Yes you do." It's hard to make the argument convincing with his head slowly dropping to Spock's shoulder, hands fitted perfectly along his hips.

Soapy hands dig into the tendons where his neck meets his shoulder and the groan echoes off the tiles nicely. "Name one occasion where I interfered when it was not necessary."

"Argo," Kirk replies without missing a beat.

He wishes he could see the expression on Spock's face. He always tries so hard not to be amused at that spectacular failure of a mission. "Argo was an exception. An outlier, if you will." He drops a kiss to Kirk's shoulder.

"Was not. The harem wasn't gonna hurt me."

One of those lovely massaging hands reaches down to pinch his ass. "The women of Argo are renowned for their proficiency in hand-to-hand combat. Therefore, it most certainly was an exception."

He jumps and faces Spock, pretending to scowl at him but belying the expression by licking a bit of moisture collecting in the shell of his ear. "You made that up. Besides, Scotty getting into a drinking contest is an exception now?"

There's that expression he was hoping for, that slight tremor at the corners of Spock's mouth indicating he's fighting down a smile. "While his fondness for alcohol is well-documented, he's never before imbibed such a quantity as to inspire him to park the landing shuttle on top of the city hall."

"Gotta admit, though, it was fucking funny."

The tremors get a little more violent, and there's a brief moment where the urge to grin takes over before Spock leashes it in again. "Lean back," he murmurs.

He tips his head back into the spray and closes his eyes when the circular scalp massage begins again, grinning at that small flash of irrepressible humor. "Anyway," he rumbles, remembering how this conversation began, "you've started a pretty stupid habit of jumping in front of bullets for me, so I don't know what you're complaining about."

Once his hair's been rinsed clean, Spock's hands start to travel down his back, leisurely mapping out his body. "I cannot recall anyone ever attacking us with a weapon archaic enough to use ammunition."

Kirk leans in and presses a kiss to his neck. "It's an expression. And I notice you're not arguing the point."

"Perhaps I was clarifying it first." Spock's fingers start traveling lower, cupping his hands around Kirk's ass and pulling him in closer. "Additionally, Starfleet protocol dictates that the crew protect their Captain just as the Captain protects his crew."

He gives a soft moan when his hips press up against Spock, feeling the first stirrings of something more than lazy affection. "Fuck the protocol," he grumps, pausing to set his teeth around Spock's collarbone and leave a faint green bruise there. He feels himself go harder when Spock shudders against him. "I'm not a fan of dragging your ass to Sick Bay."

"Nor is it an occurrence I'm particularly fond of, either." He feels Spock reach over him for something, takes a moment to press a series of bruising kisses along his jaw until he feels newly slicked fingers pressing between his cheeks. "Spread them," Spock whispers darkly in his ear, and he has to remember to breathe before he remembers how to reposition his feet without slipping on the tiles.

He's still fairly loose from their earlier activites, and he shivers when Spock slides a finger into him with absolutely no resistance. "Ngh," he mutters, pressing back into the sensation, forgetting how to speak for a minute. "S'good," is what he manages to get out, no longer having the focus to continue the previous argument.

Spock makes a small hiccuping sound in his chest, one Kirk has learned to associate with a reigned-in chuckle. He says nothing for some time, concentrating equally on preparing Kirk for a slow, heated round in the shower and on brushing against his prostate just enough to get him squirming. "Spock..." he whines, pressing his face against the man's temple.

"Turn around." The voice is considerably lower now, with a gravely feel to it that makes his cock twitch.

A small part of him wants to argue the matter, wants to stay just as he is so he can lick those delicious pointed ears, whisper obscenities against his lips. But the rest of him has already followed orders, moving so they are pressed front-to-back, the water sluicing down Kirk's chest and pouring teasing rivulets along his fully erect cock.

Spock moves back just enough to line himself up properly, then slides into him in one smooth thrust, buried to the hilt and pressed up against him everywhere. He wraps an arm around his shoulders to anchor him in place, the other tracing tortuous lines down his abdomen until they curl around his cock. Kirk lets out a long, utterly blissful moan, hands scrabbling for some part of Spock to hang on to.

He's letting himself drown in the sensations: the water pouring down his chest, the cock rubbing tantalizingly against his insides, so slowly he can almost feel the throb of Spock's pulse inside him, Spock's hand leisurely twisting and pulling on his cock. He's so focused on the various sensations that it takes him a moment to process Spock's whisper in his ear. "Let me...?"

They don't do this often. They are neither of them overly verbal about their affections, preferring to show them in actions rather than in words. Spock is especially hesitant to speak of such matters, and only upon rare occasion will he offer to mind-meld with him to show him what he's feeling. "God, yes," Kirk moans back, his head tilting back to rest against Spock's shoulder.

"My mind to your mind; my thoughts to your thoughts." The arm around his shoulders shifts a bit, curling around him so that he can press his fingers to Kirk's face. Kirk has just enough time to wrap a hand around Spock's wrist, counting two heartbeats in his pulse before his mind expands like a supernova to accommodate Spock's.

There have been times where he's come just from this, from that fiery, fierce feeling of trust and loyalty, devotion and a deep-abiding love that streaks through his mind like lightning, like thunder, like the tides against the shore. There are no words to describe such savagery of emotion - at times it's been hard to distinguish between the utter misery an older Spock bequeathed to him after the destruction of Vulcan and the absolute euphoria of the depth of his Spock's feelings for him. He understands in these moments just how much Vulcans feel, how it is nearly out of the realm of human capability to have those kinds of passions.

He manages not to come instantly, but he also knows he can't hold it back for long. He tries his best to open himself to Spock, to show him the same depth of feeling, to give him the fullest expression of his heart and hope that it is enough. He knows he must have done something right when Spock's thrusts become deeper, harder, the grip on his cock tightening and twisting until he can't stand it anymore.

There's a roaring in his ears that doesn't come from audible speech or even from the blood rushing in his veins, but rather from the force of the two of them climaxing simultaneously. It is a pleasure so vivid that is just shy of excruciating, tearing through his mind like a wild animal, forcing a cry from his chest that he cannot hear over the cacophony in his head.

It takes hours, it seems, before his mind begins to collect itself into some semblance of normalcy. He feels Spock there, distantly, but then he is gone - the fingers have fallen from his face and are resting over his chest instead. Apparently at some point they slipped to the floor, Spock's back pressed against the cooling tiles and keeping them both upright.

Kirk finally manages to get his shaking under control, shifting and wincing when Spock slides out of him, turning to gaze at the rapt expression on his face. Spock's head is pressed back against the wall, eyes closed, mouth slack, breathing heavily. He slides his fingers into the wet, matted black hair, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. "Okay?" he murmurs.

"Mm," is all he gets in response at first. The heavy breathing is laced with intervals of shivering, and Kirk presses closer in an attempt to help. "Cold," Spock finally manages to say.

It doesn't feel cold to Kirk - in fact, he's shocked the hot water has lasted this long - but he realizes the steam is no longer fogging up the room as it was before, and with Spock's higher body temperature it has to be feeling a bit chilly to him. "Right," he says, standing up and gauging whether or not he's steady. When his knees don't buckle under him, he takes Spock's hands in his and helps to haul him to his feet, issuing the command for the computer to shut off the water.

Before he lets Spock go to wrap himself in a towel and try to get his body temperature back to normal, he pulls him in for one more kiss, hand pressed against his temple. "Love you," he says quietly, hoping that if the mind meld wasn't able to get his feelings through, that the simple phrase will.

This time there are no warning tremors and no repression: just Spock smiling back at him warmly.


End file.
